For Art Thiel, Beijing is Olympics No. 8, an auspicious number in Chinese numerology. Throughout August 2008, Art trades on presumed good fortune to chronicle not only the feats of state athletes at the Games, but comment on the joys and perils of navigating the new China.

We’ve worn them out

At the soccer stadium, I had to pound on the windshield to wake the cabbie. I found a bus driver slumped over the steering wheel, snoring. The legions operating the mag-and-bag security checkpoints at hotels and venues, mostly teenagers and young adults, seem bored, exhausted or just plain asleep.

Even the plumbing is getting crabby. In many public and private bathrooms, toilet paper is barred from the toilet, mandating disposal in trash cans. Apparently some Westerners haven’t adopted the custom.

The handmade sign on the inside of a stall, featuring red ink and a growling cartoon toilet, read, “Please do not dispose paper in more toilet!”

The only fresh life to be seen is among the trinket vendors, who finally were permitted to sell goods at the exit of the Main Press Center to a public boulevard. The corner, once empty, is now a haven for pin traders, T-shirt and hat sellers.